


Mortality

by MagicalAstronomer



Series: Vocal Android Fanverse [3]
Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Android Vocaloids, Family, Fanverse, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mortality, Robot Feels, Robot Vocaloids, Robots, Vocal Android (Fanverse), miku and len have a talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 13:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12081672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalAstronomer/pseuds/MagicalAstronomer
Summary: The subject of her own death didn't occur to Hatsune Miku much.(Vocal Android universe. MikuLen if you squint.)





	Mortality

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, more fanverse stuff.  
> I've actually been getting more in-depth about this fan project of mine, and this just happened to strike me. Also felt like writing robot feels for a bit, and Miku and Len being cute.  
> Find out more about Vocal Android here: http://mikunology.tumblr.com  
> Enjoy the fic.

The subject of her own death didn’t occur to Hatsune Miku much.

Which, of course, had reason. She was a Vocaloid—in other words, a robot. Robots were beyond humanity—their lives could go on forever if nothing interrupted the constant flow of activity. And even so, a robot’s life typically ended in three ways: they grew obsolete and were destroyed, they worked and worked until their systems grew worn and could no longer handle the stress, or they simply were left behind to waste away into rusting scrap and chemical. All were quiet ends to a relatively quiet existence.

Or so Miku was told, anyway.

But her—she wasn’t the typical robot, not one that was made to constantly work or construct or type like she so commonly saw within the laboratories of Crypton. She was made with the intent to feel, the intent to inspire feelings in others with her voice. She wasn’t like the soulless, thoughtless machines she saw serving food in restaurants or delivering between office buildings. She didn’t even look like them; while artificial, she had skin, clothes, hair—no sleek chrome coatings or metal plating. The scientists liked to say that she was supposed to be a perfect, or at the very least near-perfect imitation of mankind.

So what did it mean for her, if she perished one day?

And it was this very thought that had her sitting in front of the windowsill, watching the hovercrafts cross the velvety midnight skyline as she pondered her own fate.

Until a small, resounding creak shook her from her puzzlement.

“Miku?” asked the blonde-haired teenager hesitantly. “Can I come in?”

Miku’s eyes momentarily darted to the outside before she answered, “Oh, uh…sure, Len.”

Len nodded and entered, slowly closing the door behind him. He approached her slowly as she turned back to the scene beyond the window. “It’s almost midnight, you know. Don’t you think you should go sleep?”

A beat went by, and she shrugged. “I’m good.”

Len’s mouth made a tiny “O” shape as he gazed out the window alongside her. The room grew into an uneasy silence.

“Is something wrong?” Len watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Another brief lack of response.

“Uh—“

“Len,” she said his name with a seriousness that made him jump slightly, “Do you think we’ll live forever?” She didn’t turn away from the window.

Len’s eyebrows furrowed, taken aback by the question. “Um…not really. I mean, we’re bound to be obsolete sooner or later, right?”

“Mm,” Miku hummed.

“Why do you ask?”

She shrugged again. “I was thinking,” she said with a strange heaviness, “What exactly is going to happen to us one day? You’re right—it’ll be a while before we truly fade out of the public eye. And I’m okay with that. But…” She faced Len, her bright blue eyes overcast. “What’ll happen after that? Will they just…throw us away? Will we just stick around even when there’s no more music to sing, and we just wander until we rot? Will we ever die at all?”

Seeing his surrogate sibling’s distress, Len frowned. “What brought this on?”

Miku faltered. “I don’t know,” she answered, turning back to the window. “I…just can’t help but think sometimes. Especially now, now that we seem to face getting killed every other week. What if this just goes on forever?”

“Is that a bad thing?” Len asked.

“No! I mean, maybe?” Miku shrugged more theatrically, raising her hands before crossing them. “It’s just…Meiko tells us that nothing lasts forever. And while we may be a bit more…reselent? Res…res…”

“Resilient?”

“Yeah, resilient, we’re not going to last forever either. And even then, what if the execs get tired of us someday? Even Meiko and Kaito wouldn't be able to—“

She stopped speaking as Len pressed a finger to her lips. She looked down at him, wide-eyed and frozen.

“Stop,” Len said, taking his hand away. “Listen, okay? I get what you’re talking about. Seriously, I get it. I have nightmares about that stuff all the time—about what if the execs suddenly decided they didn’t need me or Rin anymore, and well…they got rid of us.” He took a long, deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean it’ll happen.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Let me finish. It’s perfectly okay to wonder about that stuff, Miku. I mean, we’re not exactly like other people; our life expectancy goes far beyond even Kaito or Meiko’s, and well, that’s kind of scary. So is thinking about a future where the music stops, we're no longer needed, and the world turns its backs on us. It’s _scary.”_ He shook his head for a moment, and Miku’s eyebrows went up as a tiny quirk of a smile showed on Len’s face. “But that’s kind of why we should embrace the present, isn’t it? We’re going to die someday, that’s for sure. It’s inevitable. But isn’t a life where you constantly worry about the future worse than a life that’s cut short, but you went loving what happened _that day?_ I mean, that’s something _you_ would say, right?”

Miku stared at him, not even moving, but Len could see the light of comprehension stirring in her eyes. Her shoulders relaxed, and she let loose a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Len smiled meaningfully at her, and it didn’t take long for her to smile back. “I…guess that’s true.”

“Heh, see?” Len said with a chuckle. “Now really, what brought this on?”

The smile vanished again, and Miku brought her hand to her chin as if in thought. Len’s eyebrows raised. “I know something had to have been bothering you if you’re up thinking about mortality. You’re usually too perky for that.”

Miku nodded absentmindedly, and then folded her hands together in front of her. “You know the song I sang at our last concert? About the robot trying her master, something like that?”

Len nodded, thinking back to the other week’s big show after Miku’s return from her supposed “time travel” adventure. She had been uncharacteristically somber for most of the performance, which Len had brushed off as simple exhaustion. “Yeah?”

“Well, um…” She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, “After all that stuff with Gumi’s device, and then having to sing that song…”Hello, Planet”…I just started thinking about what could happen one day. About maybe we’ll be alone…or something.” She laughed, but Len heard no humor in it. “I’m just being silly. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Is that why you looked so down during the concert?”

“Eh?”

“You’re pretty easy to read, y’know,” Len said flatly. “Did Gumi’s device show you something? Like…bad?”

Miku stared at her feet. Len immediately knew the answer. “Miku—“

“It was the future in the device,” she whispered, “So doesn’t that mean…?”

 _“No,”_ Len blurted, making Miku flinch. He shook his head, lowering his voice. “I mean, no, Miku. Don’t think like that, okay? What you saw—it’s not necessarily set in stone.”

He reached to her side and took her hand in his own, and he looked straight into her eyes. “The future never is, we haven’t even been around that long. We have tons of chances to change it. And even if I’m wrong, you’re never alone, okay? Even if we’re not physically there, we’re _always_ with you, wherever you go, no matter what. I won’t let you think otherwise.” He grasped her hand a little tighter. “Okay?”

Miku’s eyes darted from his hand to his eyes, her lips trembling slightly. Within seconds, her arms were wrapped around his neck and squeezing, her fingers pressing into his shoulder blades. Her face was buried in the hug. “Okay,” she mumbled.

Len blinked, somewhat shocked by the embrace, but he sighed and relaxed into it. He patted her back gently, a small smile on his face.

After several minutes of this went by, they finally pulled away, and Len smiled wider at the renewed grin that was spread across the older girl’s face. “Thank you so much, Len,” she said tenderly. “Really, I’m okay now.”

“Good,” Len said, nodding approvingly. He rubbed his neck. “I should go to bed now, though. A lot of stuff to do in the morning.”

Miku nodded back, and she watched silently as he went back across the room and opened the door. “Len?”

He turned around. “Hmm?”

“Oh…nothing. Sweet dreams, okay?”

Len opened his mouth and closed it again. “…Oh, uh, yeah. You too.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

The door closed behind him, and Miku felt herself deflate along with the tension in the room. She turned back to the window and looked towards the shining, blinking city lights.

“…Always, huh…”


End file.
